


But I'm an Accountant

by schizdroid



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Secret Society
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-25 17:14:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17729399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schizdroid/pseuds/schizdroid
Summary: Phil Lester is beckoned to pay a house call to his accounting firm's wealthiest (and most reclusive) client for a very important date.





	But I'm an Accountant

"You're sure you're okay going to that nutter's place alone?"

Phil smiled tightly and nodded. _He's not a nutter_ , he wanted to say. _He's actually quite nice_.

Peter shook his head and grumbled somewhere beneath his thick and bushy grey beard. "House calls. Who does he think he is?"

Phil shrugged. They both knew Mr. Howell was their wealthiest client. He was also their most frustrating client according to Peter's never ending complaints—never coming into the Smithson & Moore Accounts offices, opting instead to conduct most business through email and very infrequent phone calls. Phil had been the recipient of 2 of those phone calls over the past few years; in fact, the only 2. When last asked by Peter to return a call to him, Mr. Howell had instead called Phil. And then he began to instead email Phil. Peter—as in Peter _Moore_ , man in charge—was less than pleased at the apparent demotion. Phil thought it quite funny, though of course he would never say so to Peter.

It was true, though, that a house call was quite unusual for this particular client. Even more unusual was that he had requested Phil for 9 p.m. Quite outside business hours, to say the least. But rather than feel annoyed, or nervous, Phil was excited. _The_ Daniel Howell, the famously mysterious shut-in writer, wanted Phil to come to him. To his house. He felt almost giddy.

Phil had tried reading the Howell books a few times, but could never quite make it past the first chapter. They all seemed a bit dark and rambling to Phil—just not his cup of tea. But he read and re-read Dan's emails to him all the time. The emails were mostly business, but there was also a playfulness to them. A playfulness that was certainly not present in previous emails with Peter, that was for sure. Dan and Phil had developed a bit of banter in their correspondence, but it was subtle. Other people in the office were seeing them, of course, so it had to be subtle. 

"Just remind him the billing's overtime, eh?" Peter said.

 

* * *

 

Phil sat in the car and stared at the huge property awaiting him. 

The driver met Phil's eyes in the rearview mirror and chuckled. "It's a lot to take in, I know."

The car had been sent by Mr. Howell, and Phil almost asked if the driver lived there with him, but decided it was a ridiculous question. It certainly seemed like quite a lot of house for just one person, though.

And then Phil was stepping out of the car, and the car was driving away, and he was walking to the front entrance, and hands were wrapping around his arm and yanking him into some bushes.

"Excuse me!" Phil shouted. 

"You're excused," a man in a mask said calmly.

Phil yanked his arm out of the man's grasp and stumbled backward.

"Oi! Relax." The man pulled up his mask and raised his hands in surrender. "You're fine."

Phil had, of course, seen pictures of Daniel Howell before, mainly author photos from his books. He somehow looked better in person. Phil almost couldn't believe he was really standing right in front of him. The brown eyes, the curls—yes, much better in person. Phil adjusted his shirt and picked up the satchel he had dropped in the scuffle. His sheer confusion made him default to business mode. "You, um, said this meeting was regarding a very important date, so—I wasn't sure—so I just brought all the paperwork relating to your recent real estate—"

Dan waved his hand. "That's fine. Here, just put this on." He handed Phil a dark bundle of fabric.

Phil shook it out. "It's a..."

"It's a robe. Put it on." Dan took the satchel from him and waited.

"Um." Phil noticed that Dan was wearing a dark robe himself. Suddenly Peter's use of the word _nutter_ didn't seem so offensive. "Uh... So the paperwork... Mr. Howell-"

Dan laughed. "Call me Dan. Forget the paperwork, please, just put that on."

After the briefest of hesitations, Phil pulled the robe over his head. What had he walked into?

Dan handed him something else once the robe was on. "And this."

It was a mask much like the very one Dan had perched atop his head.

Phil had reached his limit. "Okay, what is happening? Tell me, and I'll put it on."

Dan shrugged and said, "It's the date. Today's the date." He said it as though it was obvious.

"What is 'the date'?"

"A yearly meeting of a secret society." Dan rolled his eyes. "It's all very boring, really."

Phil stared. And then stared some more. "A secret society? What secret society?"

"Well, it wouldn't be a secret if I told you, now would it? Put on the mask. I have to make my rounds and I'd like to just get it over with, honestly. You don't say anything, okay? Not one word. Just nod if you have to, but don't speak."

Phil spluttered as a rush of questions all tried to make their way out of his mouth at once.

"Yes, good, like that," Dan said with a smile.

Phil was at a loss. So he put on the mask.

 

* * *

 

"See, that wasn't so bad, was it?" Dan asked, as he tossed his mask to the other side of the room.

Phil looked around as he placed his own mask on a small table by the door. The mask had itched his nose and he was glad to be able to let his face out for air. They were in a study, Phil guessed. Tables, books, sofas; much like the rest of the estate, it seemed too big to Phil for just the use of one person. The more space, the more room for loneliness, he thought. How could Dan stand it?

They both made their way to a sofa in the middle of the room and sat down.

"I don't know what just happened, to be honest." Phil said.

Dan had taken him inside once their masks and robes were in place, and Phil still couldn't make sense of any of it. Tens of people in robes and masks with candles everywhere—in his memory, Phil heard eerie music playing as they stepped through the entrance, but that was probably due to years of watching horror movies. For all he knew, it very well could have been Radiohead playing over the speakers, or it might have been completely silent. Eerie music or not, it was all very odd.

Dan walked past everyone, murmuring hellos and exchanging complicated handshakes. Phil had done as he had been instructed and only nodded at the masked figures as he passed. They had all recited some words, possibly in Latin, Phil wasn't sure, and then Dan had taken him to this room. Phil could hear the people beyond the door. It sounded like a regular party now; all clinking glasses and laughter. There would be nothing eerie about it if Phil didn't know they all happened to be in masks and robes out there. At that thought, Phil slipped his own robe over his head and laid it over the arm of the sofa. Dan followed suit.

"Tradition happened, that's all," Dan said. "I've been putting off having it at my house for a few years now. Had to get it over with."

"And I had to be here... why?"

"It's custom for the host to bring a guest. An outsider."

"Ah," Phil said, as if he understood any of it. "Sure." He thought for a moment. "No, but actually. Why me? Of all people?"

"I've, uh, enjoyed our correspondence over the years."

Phil laughed. "You do realise this is the weirdest possible thing to invite a stranger to, right?"

Dan eyed him for a moment and said, "You don't feel like a stranger."

There was a quick knock at the door then, and a masked figure entered the room with a large serving tray. The figure placed the tray on the table in front of them and left without a word.

Dan grinned at Phil. "Dinner?"

 

* * *

 

After dinner and a few glasses of wine each, Dan said, "I've asked you a few times in our emails if you've read any of my books and you always seem to avoid answering. So it's a no, I take it?"

Had it been a normal night of any sort, Phil might have tried to change the subject or perhaps just outright lie. But it was not a normal night of any sort, and so Phil said, "I don't think they're for me," because that was the truth and he didn't want to tiptoe around it.

"They're for everybody," Dan said.

 _Maybe I should have tiptoed around it_ , Phil thought. He cleared his throat. "Right. I meant—"

Dan laughed and cut him off. "I'm joking. My mum won't even read them. I know they're not for everybody. You could have said that in the emails, though. I was just curious."

"I didn't want to offend our top client."

Dan side-eyed him. "I'm just a client, am I?"

Phil thought about it. "To Mr. Moore, I suppose you are."

"Hm."

They sat in the silence comfortably, surely helped by the wine, for a few moments. It seemed to Phil that the guests outside were getting more boisterous as the time passed.

"What goes on at these parties?" Phil asked.

Dan groaned. "I don't even want to think about it. I tend to hide out like this instead when I can."

Phil didn't want to think about a time when Dan couldn't hide out, so he asked, "You really can't tell me anything about this so-called secret society?"

"If I did, you'd likely be dead within the week," Dan said.

Phil didn't know if Dan was joking, and didn't ask. Maybe some truths should be tiptoed around. Or doused in more wine.

Dan continued, "That, and they'd disown me."

Phil furrowed his brow. "You prefer being owned by a society you don't want to be a part of?"

"Do you like being owned by _Smithson & Moore Accounts_?" Dan emphasized the firm's name with a fake-posh accent.

Caught off guard by the question, Phil grinned, though it came out as more of a grimace. "I don't think it's quite the same."

Dan sipped his wine before leaning closer to Phil, somewhat conspiratorially, and said in a low voice, "We're both on the clock right now." He leaned back and at his regular volume said, "My clock just happens to be a little bit more mysterious, I guess."

"My clock's got a bit of mystery, too," Phil said, pretending to be offended.

Dan raised his eyebrows. "Oh?'

"Mr. Smithson disappeared under mysterious circumstances last year," Phil whispered, trying not to laugh.

"I thought he retired."

"Yeah, but we don't know where he went."

Dan laughed and Phil joined him. Nothing made any sense, least of all the fact that Phil was enjoying himself a bit too much.

"How long do these things last?" Phil asked.

"Until sunrise." Dan cleared his throat. "But you don't have to stay if you don't want to."

Phil placed his wine glass on the table and turned his face toward the door. He could hear the rest of the society carrying on out there. What would Dan do if he left? Join them? Or stay in this big lonely room, in this big lonely manor, by himself? Phil turned back to Dan and looked into his warm brown eyes before allowing his gaze to drop to Dan’s full lips, glistening slightly from the wine.

"If you want me to stay, ask me to stay."

Dan opened his lips ever so slightly as he regarded Phil. "I want you to stay," he said.

Without a word, Phil nodded.

Dan smiled. “Then it’s a date." 

**Author's Note:**

> Written for @phandomficfests Dates! Flash Fest (even though they didn’t bother to reblog it lol rip)


End file.
